


Just Friendly

by Sunnybone



Series: Years and Years [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Communication, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, First Time Bottoming, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Laughter During Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sylvain is Little Spoon energy, because Sylvain is a sad boy, every one of these horny tags is killing me, this is very horny and soft actually, trans felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 06:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnybone/pseuds/Sunnybone
Summary: Sylvain winds up flirting with Claude and they agree to a friendly rumble in the sheets, considering their attentions are already fixed elsewhere





	Just Friendly

**Author's Note:**

> This really got away from me because I am absolutely. Incapable. of leaving plot behind when it comes to PWP. Lord forgive me lmao, but I had to feed the rest of my Claude/Sylvain brethren
> 
> Also Sylvain is a disaster bi, and while I def think he is attracted to women I think his relationship with that attraction is pretty complicated because of his Crest etc. I hope that comes across here, I'm really not trying to play that "but he was really gay all along" shit

Sylvain had been bored, and when Claude had sat on the corner of the desk and punctuated his offer to help Sylvain study with a wink, Sylvain had been curious and impulsive enough to smirk and ask, “Are we studying in your room or mine?” Claude had actually laughed, surprised, and Sylvain had thought it was nice—a genuine laugh, not a simpering titter or the forced 'ha ha ha' he got from some girls when he flirted.

“You sure about that, ladies man?” Claude was watching him, smiling something charming, but Sylvain got enough fake smiles to recognize a slight wariness in the eyes. Waiting for Sylvain to say 'just kidding', probably. Instead he leaned his chin on his palm, elbow on the desk, and looked Claude up and down.

It would be a lie to say he didn't think Claude was attractive, though he hadn't really thought about fooling around with him—when he thought about guys there was a pretty damn specific guy his mind stuck to, but that wasn't happening in reality any time soon. Probably ever, so why pass up the chance to _actually_ fool around with a guy as good looking as Claude von Riegan? Sylvain smiled, slow.

“It's always good to try new things, y'know, keeps you well rounded.” Sylvain watched, pleased with himself, as that charming smile finally reached Claude's eyes.

“Oh, you're a treat.” Claude looked at him for a moment, thinking, and then seemed to make a decision. “Better make it my room.”

So Sylvain had snapped his book shut, swept all of his things into his bag, and gestured for Claude to lead the way; he enjoyed the way Claude hopped off the desk, and he thought this might wind up being _very_ interesting.

The walk was pleasant enough, and they filled it with talk of their upcoming trip to Gronder Field and their crossing via the Great Bridge of Myrddin, what the weather should be like for the battle, and how badly their respective classes would beat the others. They were quieter though as they climbed the stairs to the second floor of the dorms—it was the middle of the afternoon on a free day, so most of their neighbors would be out, but there was a kind of quiet to the hallway that had the feel of a library or a museum, a place where voices should be hushed.

So they were quiet when they reached Claude's room, and Sylvain couldn't help glancing at Felix's door, knowing that of course he would be at the training grounds. He also knew Claude saw him, but he didn't say anything about it. When they got into Claude's room, Sylvain whistled as he dropped his bag to the side of the door.

“Are we _actually_ studying, then?” he asked, taking in the piles of books everywhere, especially noting the books on the _bed_—which was _huge_, by the way—and Claude snorted. “No, Claude, this is actually impressive. Maybe you _should_ help me study,” he said, teasing, but all the tease went out of him a moment later when Claude caught him by the front of his jacket and turned him, tugging him in so they were facing each other, hip to hip.

“If you're hell-bent on studying...” he said, smirking up at Sylvain, still holding him by the lapels, and Sylvain decided this was _definitely_ going to be interesting as his mouth went a little dry. He swallowed, and Claude's smirk sharpened into something a little devilish that Sylvain instantly loved.

“Oh, I don't know, what subject were you planning on?” he asked, and he managed to pull a grin out of somewhere, though his mind was pretty stuck on the corner of Claude's mouth and the way Claude still had him by the lapels like he was going to drag him around the room, and the closeness of their hips, almost touching but not _quite_.

“Is it too on the nose to say Sex Ed?” Claude asked, and Sylvain laughed, his hands settling on Claude's hips. “Yeah, I thought so. Well—actually, first,” he released one lapel to hold up a finger, “some ground rules?”

“Of course, tutor,” and Sylvain was gratified by the surprised blink and the little hint of color that brought to Claude's cheeks; Claude recovered quickly though, smirk back in place but softer now.

“First rule, talk to me. If I do something you don't like, let me know, and if I do something you _do_ like,” he winked, “don't be shy. I'll do the same. And don't be afraid to ask if there's something you wanna try. I’m guessing, and correct me if I’m wrong, that you probably haven’t done this with a lot of guys?”

“None, actually,” he said, and his fingers drummed once against Claude's hips—he had not thought about his inexperience on the way here, had found himself incredibly at ease with Claude, actually, but now it hit him that maybe Claude would rather fool around with someone who actually knew what he was doing. Or, worse, maybe he'd be as bad at this as he'd been the one disastrous time he'd slept with a girl—he'd done just fine physically, but mentally it had been a pretty shit experience.

Claude—wonderful, glorious genius Claude—picked up on the sudden uncertainty Sylvain was covering with one of his usual smiles, and the hand in his lapel let go to slide up his chest and stop at his shoulder.

“Introductory lesson instead of a refresher, I can work with that—if you're still interested.” Sylvain felt himself go warm with a sudden genuine affection—he really ought to hang out with Claude more, he was much nicer than people gave him credit for. Or maybe he hid it well, and Sylvain was just lucky, making all the right moves to earn an honest glimpse of him. Either way, he felt the fake smile give way to something a little soft and curious.

“What're the rest of the rules?” he asked, and Claude clapped him on the shoulder before stepping back and making a sweeping gesture at the books.

“Rule number two is we both should be having fun, and that's pretty much it, but I guess if there was a Rule Three it would be Don't Disrespect Books, so we should move these.” He stepped around Sylvain, a hand sliding across his chest as he did, and Sylvain allowed himself to turn with that hand to face the bed covered in various open tomes. Claude didn't seem to be worried about losing his place as he started closing them and stacking them off to the side of his headboard, so Sylvain joined him.

He started grabbing books and stacking them in one arm, giving the titles curious glances, and he recognized a book Dimitri had been looking for in the library a few days before. He opened his mouth to say as much, when his eyes fell on another title—one that was definitely not from the library. “Tome of Comely Saints, huh?” he asked with a little smirk, and Claude grinned, an eyebrow lifting.

“I see you recognize my literature—fellow connoisseur, eh?”

“I said I never fooled around with a guy, not that I never _thought_ about it,” he replied, handing the stack of books he'd collected to Claude before dropping to sit on the edge of the bed. Claude deposited the books and then came to stand in front of him, their knees touching.

“Think about it a lot, huh?” he teased, reaching out to toy with the top button of Sylvain's shirt. Sylvain just smirked back, hands finding their way back to Claude's hips as he opened his knees to pull him just a little closer.

“Oh, plenty,” and then Claude leaned down and kissed him, the hand on his button sliding up his chest, sweeping to the back of his head to tilt it. Sylvain wasn't new to kissing by any stretch, but this was something different—generally he found himself the pursuer, the one in the lead, and it was _so_ good to be the one following...

“Top marks,” Claude said in between kisses, and Sylvain thought, laughing, that he'd never had fun while messing around with someone before. Girls didn't make him laugh like this, it was never just... friendly and _comfortable_. He could never seem to turn off the low current of self-hatred, the knowledge that he was using them before they could use him. The thought of that made him flinch, though, because he realized suddenly he was probably just using Claude the same way— “You good?”

He looked up and Claude was watching him, patient, hand at the back of his head warm and tangled in his hair.

“Yeah, I'm—“ he started to say he was fine, but Claude lifted an eyebrow, and the lie died in his mouth. “Ok, I'm suddenly feeling kind of like an asshole. This is just, friendly, right?” He hated himself as soon as he said it, but Claude didn't get offended, or scoff that he was full of himself and of course it was just a one time thing; instead, he looked up at the wall behind the bed, and Sylvain turned to see what he was looking at. There wasn't anything there, and he was about to ask—he stiffened, realizing Felix's room was on the other side of that wall. His eyes cut back up to Claude's face, Claude looking at him a little calculating.

“You wouldn't be feeling like an asshole because a certain someone might be upset if he knew you were—“

“Oh, fuck no,” Sylvain cut off, the very idea coiling inside him like an angry snake, biting and painful. “I mean, he'd be annoyed, but because he thinks I'm incorrigible, not because he cares about—“ not because he cares about _me_, he could not say, so, “no, it's not about Felix.” But that wasn't entirely true. “Ok, it sort of is, but—“ he groaned because he was babbling and he was ruining this, and he took a deep breath, started over.

“I'm feeling like an asshole because I just realized you're really nice and I might be using you, which is—“ Claude stopped him with a hand over his mouth, looking a little amused, but not in the least bit judgmental.

“It's just friendly,” he agreed, smiling soft, “but if you're really worried, I guess you could say we'd be using each other mutually. You've got...whatever you've got,” he had glanced up at the wall and back to Sylvain, “and I've got my own pursuits.” Sylvain thought about it, and it was pretty obvious, really, the way Claude acted around Byleth. He'd probably even been looking for the Professor when he spotted Sylvain, not much reason otherwise to be in the Blue Lions classroom. Claude pulled the hand from his mouth and rested it on Sylvain's shoulder. “I'm not gonna be offended if you don't fall _completely_ in love with me, just as long as you don't call out anyone else's name—“

Sylvain snorted at the idea, and then started to laugh until he leaned forward, forehead pressed into Claude's chest and arms lazily around his waist. When he finally stopped and looked up at Claude, he was met with that patient sort of amusement.

“You really _are_ nice, you know.” Claude snorted.

“Literally _no one_ has ever accused me of that in bed before. Feeling a little bit like my reputation is under attack.”

“Oh, well, feel free to correct me, then,” and this time when Claude kissed him they smirked into each other's mouths. Sylvain stopped thinking about anything else, focusing fully on Claude's hand on his throat, holding him in place so that Claude could kiss him deep and overwhelming. He could feel his own pulse against that hand, pounding, and he decided suddenly that this was not nearly enough—he scooted back on the bed, hand on Claude's hips to pull him along, and Claude followed, leaning one knee on the mattress.

The knee was a definite improvement on the situation, pressed as it was against Sylvain's crotch and quickly growing erection, and he groaned into Claude's mouth when Claude leaned forward _just _right. And then Claude leaned _away_, and Sylvain actually _whined_. He glared up at Claude, who was looking smug.

“Ok, maybe not as nice as I thought,” he said, and Claude looked delighted, shaking his head and backing off a bit. Sylvain started to pull him back, but stopped when he saw Claude's hands at the front of his coat and his single raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted to do this clothed—“ Claude started, teasing, but Sylvain just rolled his eyes and sat back, pulling off his own jacket and carelessly tossing it to the side of the bed. He was watching Claude unfasten a series of hook-and-claw catches carefully hidden along the front edges of his coat, and Sylvain finally knew the secret to that seamless, sleek look. His own hands went to the buttons on his shirt as Claude finally shrugged out of the coat and threw it over his chair, and then Claude was back in his space, gently batting Sylvain's hands away from his buttons.

“That's my job, spoil all the fun.” Claude was looking him over, and Sylvain had to wonder just what he was looking at; it wasn't as if Sylvain never took his jacket off, especially in the warmer months or at the training grounds. This was nothing new—Claude, on the other hand, in a thin yellow shirt tucked into the waist of those flaring pants... well, it was definitely doing things for Sylvain. He liked how the contrast between the sleek shirt and wide pants drew the eye right to Claude's waist, deceptively thin but undoubtedly muscular, and his fingers twitched with wanting to touch him.

Considering Claude had moved on from looking at him to unbuttoning his shirt, Sylvain took it as fair game to reach out and un-tuck the shirt, humming at the feel of the fabric, the same kind of silky material as Claude's cape. Then Claude took his hands and pulled them away so that he could push Sylvain's shirt down his shoulders and arms and over his hands, and as soon as that was done Sylvain had his hands back at Claude's waistband; Claude chuckled.

“You're not exactly a blushing virgin, huh,” he said, and Sylvain looked up at him with a snort, fingertips brushing the skin of Claude's stomach just above the line of his belt.

“I've never been a blushing _anything_, Claude,” he said, and he felt the little thrill that shivered through the muscles under his fingers.

“I am _so_ glad I winked at you,” Claude said, and then he kissed Sylvain again, and Sylvain let his hands wander up under Claude's shirt, half dragging the fabric with him. He was exploring blind for the most part, head tilted too far meeting Claude's kisses to see what he was touching. He ran his fingers along Claude's stomach, soft skin over hard muscle, and up to his chest; it was definitely different than any girl he'd felt up, hard and broader and peppered with soft hair, and Sylvain loved it. Claude gasped into his mouth when he dragged a thumb rough across his nipple, and Sylvain smirked.

He did it again and Claude swore, leaning back to pull his shirt over his head impatiently, throwing it over his shoulder with considerably less care than he'd shown his coat. Sylvain had a moment to appreciate the view of Claude's chest, and then Claude planted hands on his shoulders and gave him a firm push back onto the bed. He allowed himself to flop back and was not disappointed when Claude followed him up onto the bed, straddling his hips.

Like this, Sylvain was treated to a full view of his hands on Claude's skin, winter-pale contrasting with Claude's warmer gold and the small patch of dark hair on his chest. He found things now he'd missed, little scars, and he traced one across Claude's ribs. Claude was doing the same, running his hands over Sylvain's old scars from training and...other things. Claude bent and pressed his lips to Sylvain's collarbone, working his way to the juncture of shoulder and neck, and Sylvain shivered at the contrast of warm mouth and the trailing end of Claude's braid, capped in cold metal.

He sighed, hands sliding up Claude's sides to his back, and Claude kissed the side of his jaw. Sylvain tilted his head to look at Claude watching him through his lashes, and Sylvain thought about how green his eyes were, deep green like a shadowed forest; he must have smiled a little dopily because Claude propped his chin on his hand for a moment.

“What?” Claude asked, soft and slightly fond, and Sylvain thought _what could it hurt?_

“Would you be upset,” he asked, “if I said you were beautiful?” Claude just snickered, dropping his face into Sylvain's neck.

“Only if you didn't mean it.”

“Well then. You're beautiful.” Now they were both laughing, something small and soft, not quite a chuckle but not a snicker either. It jostled them together in an interesting way, and the laughter died out almost immediately into something breathless. Claude turned to kiss him again, their mouths hot and open, and Sylvain's hands on his back slid down to grab Claude's ass. He pulled him down and bucked up, grinding their erections together, and Claude breathed harsh against his cheek before dropping his mouth back to the crook of Sylvain's neck.

Sylvain wasn't sure how long they were like that, panting into the afternoon quiet, grinding their hips while Claude left hot bruises along his throat. He wasn't thinking of time, just sensation, his hands kneading the muscle of Claude's ass, thumbs hooking in Claude's waistband and brushing skin. He wanted to touch more—

“You are wearing entirely too much,” he grumbled, and Claude nodded against his throat.

“You are _so_ right,” he almost moaned, and then he was sitting back, his hands sliding across Sylvain's stomach and back around to catch Sylvain's hands and move them from his ass, pressing them to Sylvain's waistband. Then he moved off of Sylvain in one deft movement, sitting beside him to kick off his boots. Sylvain had to sit up himself to pull his own boots off before wriggling out of the rest of his clothes. When he looked back at Claude, his breath caught.

He had said Claude was beautiful, and he hadn't been wrong—without the baggy pants, Sylvain could see he was all sleek muscle, and Sylvain thought Claude might be an archer but with thighs like that he had to sit a horse like a pro. The thought of Claude riding anything, at this particular point in time, was sending a possibly dangerous amount of blood rushing straight to his dick.

Claude was back with him almost immediately, pressing him back with his body and kissing the whole way, until they were lying naked and tangled, all skin and mouths and hands. Claude settled onto him, warm weight in the slight Wyvern Moon chill, and Sylvain groaned when their cocks met, bucking his hips up without thought. Claude grinned against his cheek even as Sylvain felt him panting, too, and then Claude leaned back enough to wink at him—before he rolled them both and Sylvain was looking down at him.

Claude reached up, one hand threading through Sylvain's hair and the other tracing light across the marks he'd left on Sylvain's throat, pressing just enough to sting—he smirked at the breathy sound Sylvain made, and when he tugged at Sylvain's hair Sylvain leaned down to wipe the smirk away with his own mouth. Claude nipped at his lips and when Sylvain lifted his head to look at him, Claude laughed something silent that Sylvain felt through the body pressed beneath his. The laugh turned into a long exhale when Sylvain reached down between them, an eyebrow raised, and grasped both of their cocks in one hand.

He watched Claude's head fall back on the pillow, the long line of his throat stretching back, his eyes sliding shut as he sighed with each brush of their cocks thrusting together. Sylvain caught his mouth again, this time kissing long and slow, and Claude threw a leg over his hip for better leverage and thrust up into his hand. They continued until Sylvain found himself panting into Claude's mouth more than kissing, and he pressed his face to Claude's cheek.

“This is phenomenal, but,” he managed, “this is getting to the part where you take over, I think. Experience and wisdom, all that.” Claude hmm'd, turned to kiss Sylvain's temple.

“Sure, gimme a minute.” Claude rolled them again and climbed up and over, one hand braced next to Sylvain's head and the other fishing in a drawer on his nightstand. Sylvain watched him, hands playing across his back muscles. Claude finally found what he'd been looking for and sat back with a bottle of liquid. “This shouldn't be so different from a girl—“ he started, and Sylvain's eyebrows shot up.

“Never have I been fucked by a girl, Claude.” Claude actually fumbled the bottle in surprise, but he caught it with quick archer reflexes and stared down at Sylvain.

“Oh, you want _me_ to—?” He sounded surprised, not particularly bothered, but Sylvain still had to ask.

“Is that a problem?” Claude just smiled at him and shook his head, settling down to lie next to him on his side, propping his head on his hand and watching him.

“Nah, just a little surprising. I kinda figured, your first time, you'd probably want to top.” Sylvain sighed and gave a little shrug.

“Considering it's probably the last time, too, I'd like to get the most out of it. Not a lot of girls lining up to _fuck me_, fuck me, Claude.” He wasn't totally sure how he'd feel about that, anyways.

“Oh, Sylvain...” Claude grinned. “You're not sleeping with the right girls, then. Ok! So this is _definitely_ going to be different from the average girl, then. It might actually not be your thing, which won't be a problem, just let me know and we can always switch.” That said, he moved to cover Sylvain again with his body, kissing him.

He dropped the bottle on top of the blanket by Sylvain's hips and ran his hands over Sylvain's chest, just caressing, making his way down and following with his mouth. His hands flitted teasingly around Sylvain's terribly neglected erection and down to his inner thighs, stroking Sylvain's legs open wider.

He kissed along Sylvain's stomach, and Sylvain felt Claude's hot breath travel up his cock from base to tip—before Claude drew back into a kneeling position between his spread legs, a smirk on his lips at the whining noise Sylvain made.

“Tease,” he said, and Claude swept his fingers up Sylvain's cock in one quick stroke.

“Impatient,” Claude countered, free hand retrieving the bottle and uncapping it deftly. “This requires a bit of prep, after all.” He needed both hands then, slicking the lube over his own erection with one hand as he capped the bottle with the other, chucking it back into the mess of blankets. Then the slick hand was on Sylvain again, grip far lighter than he wanted, still just teasing him, amping him up. Sylvain leaned up on his elbows, looking down at Claude, and Claude trailed his slicked hand from Sylvain's erection down between his legs.

Sylvain was no stranger to fingers on his cock, but fingers on his asshole was a whole new story. It was almost embarrassingly intimate, and he could feel the rare blush all the way to his ears. Claude looked up at him questioningly, one hand on the inside of his thigh like a soothe, slick fingers the barest breath against the ring of muscle, and Sylvain nodded.

Claude pressed a finger in to the first knuckle, watching Sylvain's reaction—it didn’t exactly feel _good_ yet, but it wasn’t awful either, just odd, and he nodded more vigorously at Claude to continue. He did, pressing further, and while it felt slightly better, Sylvain wasn’t wild about it. He opened his mouth to say as much when Claude pulled the finger back, and Sylvain only made a breathy ‘ah’ sound. Claude was valiantly fighting a grin.

“I see the appeal,” Sylvain said, a little breathless, and Claude ducked his head for a second, trying to hide his laughter—Sylvain slapped his shoulder. “Don't stop _now_.” Claude made a little 'oho' noise as he looked up again, that devilish smirk back again, and Sylvain licked his lips; he may have just bought himself a little torment, but considering Claude, it would probably be delicious.

He wasn't wrong, as the finger returned, probing, and just when he thought he was almost used to it, Claude added a second finger with a raise of his eyebrow. Sylvain could only exhale and nod, eyes closing, savoring the slight burn of his muscles and the pressure, the fullness-absence as Claude fucked him with his fingers. And then, just when he thought he was almost used to it again, Claude grinned at him and scissored his fingers.

“_Ohfuck_,” he almost wheezed, head falling back and his eyes going wide, and this was something he was absolutely going to have to add to his usual late night wanks—a real _game changer_.

Sylvain rocked his hips down on Claude's fingers, trying to take more, and Claude took that as a go-ahead to continue in earnest, spreading his fingers or curling them until Sylvain was absolutely squirming. He hit a spot somewhere inside that had Sylvain feeling like he'd been sucker-punched, and Sylvain decided this was great but he'd had enough _prepping_. If Claude kept this up he was going to finish before they'd even gotten to the main event.

He scrabbled with one hand for Claude’s shoulder, and when he caught it he tugged, trying to pull him up and into himself through sheer force of will. “Quit messing around and fuck me,” he demanded, and Claude followed the pull on his shoulder, moving up Sylvain's body with a low chuckle.

“I thought I was,” Claude said, and at this point the tease in his voice would have had Sylvain strangling him in frustration if he didn’t _need_ him; instead he squirmed and glared.

“You know what I—” Claude silenced him with a kiss, slick hand moving down to guide his cock, and then he pressed in and Sylvain hissed, turning his head to the side. This was a lot more burn and pressure than the fingers, but it was perfect, exactly what he had been seeking. Claude stilled, waiting for him to adjust, but when Sylvain turned to look at him he was looking less smug, and Sylvain's own grin was only slightly strained. Claude pulled back and thrust again, and Sylvain groaned, fingers digging into Claude's back and his legs coming up to curl, knees bent and clamped around Claude as if to prevent him from escaping.

“Not your thing?” Claude asked, low and teasing. “Should we switch?” Sylvain stared at him for a second, and then with a flash of his own devilish genius he rolled his hips and Claude choked. Sylvain licked his lips.

“I dunno, _should_ we?” Claude just laughed and kissed him again, but he started to move then, slow but steady. Sylvain's hands moved, one hand in Claude's hair as he latched onto the pulse in Sylvain's throat with his mouth again, other hand making it's way to Claude's ass, urging him along.

Claude was bracing himself with one arm, the other hand on Sylvain's stomach, teasing down and around his cock but not touching, and Sylvain huffed. He pulled his hand from Claude's ass and threw his leg up over Claude's hip like Claude had done earlier, taking advantage of his leg strength to pull Claude in. His hand free, he moved to jerk himself off, but Claude caught his hand and moved it firmly back to his ass, glancing up at Sylvain and tsking. Sylvain tightened his fingers in Claude's hair and tugged, and Claude let out a little moan.

Still, he finally stopped teasing around it and grasped Sylvain's cock, firm instead of the soft tease of earlier, and he pumped his fist in a rhythm with his thrusts. Sylvain braced himself with his bent leg, foot flat on the mattress, and bucked his hips up to meet Claude's thrust—their rhythm stuttered as they both gasped, Claude's thrust deep and driving in just right to hit Sylvain's prostate and make him see stars. Claude reached around blind for the hand on his ass, bringing it around to Sylvain's cock, and then he gripped Sylvain's hip and lifted so he could get that angle again.

They lost rhythm altogether then, Sylvain pumping at his cock without thought as Claude's thrusts came faster and deeper, no longer kissing Sylvain's throat but panting open-mouthed into his collarbone, Sylvain's hand splayed between his shoulder-blades like an anchoring lifeline.

With a garbled curse Sylvain came, his eyes scrunched shut and head thrown back, light-headed and gasping. Claude groaned as the ripples of Sylvain's orgasm rocked through him, tightening around Claude's thrusting cock, and it was only a moment before Claude came, too, curling in with his forehead in the middle of Sylvain's sternum.

They lay there for a moment, unmoving, and then Claude slipped out of him and flopped onto his back beside Sylvain.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain finally said, soft and wondering, and Claude covered his face and actually giggled. When Sylvain turned to look at him, he just shook his head and waved his other hand, unable to stop laughing.

“No, no, I'm just. Still surprised I've got the biggest skirt chaser in Garreg Mach in my bed.” Sylvain rolled his eyes, wondering if he should get offended, but he was still feeling pleasantly boneless and he didn't feel any malice in Claude's laughter. “Sorry, that was just. You _sure_ that was your first time?” Sylvain snorted.

“I'm a quick study,” he said, and Claude sighed wistfully.

“Well, you get an A from me for sure.” Then Claude rolled and carefully climbed over Sylvain to scoot off of the bed and walk across the room to rifle around in a cabinet. He moved completely unselfconscious of his nakedness, and Sylvain turned to finally admire his ass—he absolutely _had_ to be a rider with a build like that. Then Claude returned with a cloth, wiping them both clean while Sylvain lay in a content sort of tiredness. When he finished, Claude pulled one of the blankets from beneath them and clambered back to the inner side of the bed, draping the blanket over them and pressing himself close to Sylvain.

“I am feeling a nap,” he said, “and it's cold here.” Sylvain rolled his eyes, tucking the edge of the blanket more firmly even as he pulled Claude's arm across his chest.

“This is nothing on the northern border.” He settled in a bit, warmed by Claude along his back. “Your bed is ridiculous, by the way—Dimitri's a prince and his bed isn't this big. How'd you swing it?”

“Oh no, if I tell you then everyone will have one, and how will I entice them to cuddle up like this?”

“I doubt it would be difficult, Claude,” he said, and then yawned. “I mean, don't think I'm easy, but you didn't even buy me dinner and here I am.” Claude laughed into his shoulder.

“Dinner tonight, my treat. Even take you into town.”

“Ugh just take me to the dining hall, I'm not fit to walk all that way,” he groaned, and Claude peeked over his shoulder. “I'm exaggerating,” he said, “but also, no need to take me all the way into town.” Claude was looking at him still, scrutinizing, but he just smacked a dramatically loud kiss on Sylvain's shoulder and settled back behind him.

“If you insist! Nothing but the finest Academy Cuisine for my dear friend Sylvain.” Sylvain smiled small at that, tucking his head toward the pillow—he thought becoming friends with Claude after this would be something indeed. He let the warmth at his back and the sound of Claude's soft breaths lull him into sleep.

+

Sylvain woke up to Claude's room just softly lit by the last of the daylight slipping away, and the warmth at his back was welcome with the chill that had settled. He shrugged the blanket a bit closer and Claude hmm'd sleepily into his shoulder.

“M'wake,” he mumbled after a moment, and Sylvain smiled.

“No rush.” The arm across his chest gave a small, grateful squeeze, and then Claude yawned and pulled away, rolling onto his back to stretch. Sylvain did the same—Claude's bed was _criminally_ unfair—and he took stock of himself. Mild discomfort, but no real pain. He said as much when Claude asked how he was doing. “What about you?” Claude huffed a quiet laugh, hand on his forehead.

“Worn out, honestly. Haven't had sex like that in a while. I'd offer to make it a regular occurrence if we didn't have other things going on.” Sylvain laughed, soft.

“Making headway with the Professor, then?” he asked, and Claude grinned.

“None! It's great. They're almost totally immune to my charms, I love it.” Sylvain could see that he meant it, that Byleth not falling all over Claude was one part of what made him like them so much. “And I do mean _almost_; I'm pretty sure Teach is just being strict about not crossing the Professor-student line. Graduation will be sweet,” he sighed, and Sylvain smiled.

“Long game, huh. I can respect that.” He stretched again, then wiggled himself deeper into the blankets and comfortable mattress.

“Mind if I ask—“ Claude started, and then stopped, until Sylvain hmm'd at him inquisitively. Claude rolled onto his side, cheek propped on his elbow. “What's stopping you? From, you know, Felix.” Sylvain grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, I mean.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Augh, it's a whole other story with him. He's so _stubborn_. When we were kids, things were...different.” Sylvain sighed. “I haven't exactly done myself any favors, with how I am about girls, but he's got this idea that I can't have feelings for him without denying who he is. Like I still see him the way we were as kids.” Sylvain frowned up at the ceiling.

“Have you tried just wildly flirting with guys?” Claude asked, and Sylvain laughed so loud he had to turn and bury his face in the pillow to stifle it. When he finally wound down, he smiled ruefully up at Claude.

“If that would work I'd be throwing myself at every guy in Garreg Mach. Nah, he'd just be even more disgusted with me than he is now. Probably run me through, and not in a pleasant innuendo way.” He sighed a long exhale. He didn't want to think about this too much, he was still in a good mood and he'd like to ride it out as long as he could. “Think it's about time we head out?” He glanced up at Claude and saw the look of sympathy, but there was nothing patronizing or pitying in it. Instead Claude pushed himself up to sit and let the subject pass.

“Sure; if we wait too long, Raph'll clean the place out.” They clambered off the bed, handing each other articles of discarded clothing as they dressed. Claude looked Sylvain over and made a face before offering him a comb for his truly incredible bedhead, and Sylvain simply bent his head for Claude to fix it himself.

“You made the mess, after all.” Claude snorted, but when he was done and they had straightened and smoothed each other out as much as possible, he winced and looked a little remorseful.

“I really did a number on your neck, it's pretty obvious.” Sylvain reached up and felt the hot skin of his throat, tender to the touch. He shrugged; Byleth had insisted that every student of theirs with an aptitude for magic learn at least a basic healing spell, and Sylvain lifted a glowing hand towards his throat.

“Help me out here? Just the visible stuff, I'm not worried about the rest.” Claude lifted a brow at that and then winked, guiding Sylvain's hand to erase every bruise that his open-collared shirt displayed. There were, apparently, a lot, and by the end of it Claude was all but snickering while Sylvain held his shoulder and laughed, eyes closed and breathless.

“I'm glad I flirted with you,” Claude said as their laughter wound down, and Sylvain hmm'd fondly in agreement.

“Let's go get that Academy Cuisine.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is part one and I swear lmao that endgame for this is Sylvain/Felix, Claude/Byleth, a few other ships side and background, please bear with me as we take this long journey together lmao
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@AceMorningStar](https://twitter.com/AceMorningStar)


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